<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>confession theory by GreenyLove</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372295">confession theory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove'>GreenyLove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:48:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/pseuds/GreenyLove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I mean, if you kissed me, I’d scream.” </p><p>“In horror?” </p><p>(Asahi and Noya have a hypothetical discussion about very real feelings.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>confession theory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/OedipusOctopus/gifts">OedipusOctopus</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Asahi-san!” </p><p>He hears him coming from a ways off. Asahi used to listen to music on his walk home but after a memorable afternoon during second year when Sugawara jumped on his back and scared him so badly he nearly tripped into the river, his earbuds stay neatly coiled in his pocket. Even with his music, Asahi thinks he would sense Nishinoya. Like he can tell when it’s going to storm just by smelling the ozone in the air. </p><p>Asahi likes storms and <em> likes </em> Nishinoya. The way his insides flutter when Nishinoya skips to a stop beside him, falls into stride, smiles so effortlessly up at Asahi — the only thunder here is the resonant thud of his heart.</p><p>“Noya-san,” he greets. “Taking the long way home again?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Nishinoya shrugs, shoving his bleached bangs out of his face. His hair is longer on top than usual, enough that gravity has it flopping in his face. He’s taken to clipping in back during practice. It’s handsome in the way it draws out the angles of his face. Asahi is relieved that Nishinoya doesn’t clip it back all the time. How big of a fool would Asahi make of himself right now, without volleyball as a distraction?</p><p>Even still. With his hair down, wild and tousled by the fall breeze, Nishinoya is handsome. A losing battle, it seems. </p><p>Nishinoya is still talking. “And, you know, it’s been a few days since I checked on the gas station cats. Can’t have them forgetting about me!” </p><p>Asahi thinks that’s unlikely. Nishinoya is unforgettable.</p><p>“I, uh, stopped to visit yesterday,” he admits, sheepish. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets so he stops fidgeting.  </p><p>“Oh?” Nishinoya’s grin is playful. “All by yourself?” </p><p>“I’m not scared of them,” Asahi insists, perhaps a bit too urgently. It makes Nishinoya cackle. “The <em> cats </em> are scared of <em> me.” </em> </p><p>Nishinoya scoffs, but it’s not cruel. “No one could be scared of you, Asahi-san. You’re the gentlest human alive.” </p><p>Asahi makes a show of sighing in resignation, tipping his face to the sunset sky to hide the way his cheeks turn pink. “Then why do they avoid me?” </p><p>“Because you act too skittish! You just gotta relax and show them affection,” Nishinoya says. He holds up his hands, mimes scratching motions with his fingers. “Give them scritches and kisses.”</p><p>Asahi shakes his head. He can barely bring himself to <em> pet </em> the gas station cats. Even the sweet ones who like to twine around his legs are prone to loud, startled meows if he reaches for them. </p><p>“If I try to kiss them, they’ll scream.” </p><p>Scoffing again, Nishinoya spies a small rock in the middle of the path. Asahi <em> knows </em> he’s going to kick it, because he wouldn’t be Nishinoya if he wasn’t constantly in motion, so he isn’t surprised when Nishinoya jogs forward. Perhaps that’s what allows him to catch what Nishinoya says as he pulls back his foot and aims. </p><p>“Can you <em> blame </em> them? Who wouldn’t.”</p><p>Asahi jerks to stop. “N-Noya-san?” </p><p>It’s Nishinoya’s turn to freeze. He flexes his hands, looks around like he’s evaluating his escape routes. When he slowly twists to face Asahi, his hands are deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. They are right at the entrance to the park near Asahi’s house, the greenery caught between summer and fall, both golden-orange and green around them. A slow immolation, not unlike the heat swelling in Asahi’s cheeks. </p><p>“I mean,” Nishinoya says, after seconds with the weight of eternities, “if you kissed me, I’d scream.”</p><p>Asahi isn’t sure what to make of that. “In horror?” </p><p>“What! No!” Nishinoya kicks him half-heartedly with the toe of his beat-up sneaker as Asahi draws even. They resume their walk, winding towards the far edge of the park. They move slower than before, more focused on each other than the destination. “I mean, in theory, it would be cool.” </p><p>He didn’t expect Nishinoya to keep talking. There’s no hiding the widening of his eyes, the confusion that leaks into his tone.</p><p>“You would scream because kissing me is...cool?”</p><p>“Oh god.” Nishinoya stops walking and hides his face in his hands, a gesture so unlike Nishinoya that it stops Asahi in his tracks, grinds his thoughts to a halt. </p><p>Nishinoya is <em> flustered. </em> This is serious. </p><p>“I’m messing this up so bad,” Nishinoya whines. He takes a deep breath, shoulders drawing up to his ears, before he drops his hands and looks Asahi dead on. He says the next sentence in one long exhale, a rush of words and rattling breath. </p><p>“Asahi, in theory, if you kissed me, I’d scream because I have a massive crush on you and kissing you would be the raddest thing ever.” </p><p>The world tips sideways. Asahi stares in shock. The silence makes Nishinoya fidget immediately. Discomfort looks wrong on him, this strong boy who should never look at the ground so defeated. </p><p>Asahi pushes through the white noise, stammers out, “A crush? On me?”</p><p>“Oh my god!” Nishinoya throws his hands up, drags his fingers back through his wild, tangled hair. He flops down on the nearest bench, slumping so his neck rests on the back, his strong skinny legs stuck straight out in front of him. “Asahi! I’ve been flirting with you for weeks! I thought I was being super obvious!” </p><p>He’s so distraught — it’s not <em> funny, </em> but it comforts Asahi. Maybe he’s not the only one who feels like he sidestepped into an alternate reality. The fluttering in his stomach shakes through his whole body. He sits down too, eases his bag off his shoulder. </p><p>“I...noticed,” Asahi confesses. Nishinoya’s look of betrayal is almost comedic, makes his mouth twitch up in a half-there smile. Asahi shrugs helplessly. “I just thought, you know, maybe you were really excited about being friends?” </p><p>“I love being your friend!” Nishinoya insists loudly, scaring sparrows from a nearby bush. “But — I mean, I also like you more than that.” </p><p>Asahi leans back, squeezes his hands together in his lap. He glances at Nishinoya, sidelong and shy. “In theory.” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” Nishinoya coughs, draws his legs up onto the bench and wraps his wiry arms around his knees. “Purely hypothetical.” </p><p>This time, Asahi thinks, he should be the brave one. He inhales, and on the exhale, he cracks open his heart. “I...like you too, Noya-san. As more than a friend.” </p><p>It’s easy to admit. There’s no weight to the words, just lightness. Inevitability; the universe nodding, <em> correct. </em> When faced with all that Nishinoya is — passionate, committed, smart, brave, kind — how could Asahi not be hopelessly charmed by this wonderful person? This person who likes him too? </p><p>This person who gasps, closed-mouth, eyes shining as disbelief and then joy break over his face. Nishinoya presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, hiding his face. It’s the first time Asahi can remember where Nishinoya has opted for silence. </p><p>Admittedly, it worries him. “N-Noya-san? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Ahh! Give me a few minutes!” Nishinoya groans, leans against his side. “I’m stupid happy right now.” </p><p>Asahi knows he must be red, from his hairline all the way to where his neck disappears beneath his scarf. He wants to scoop Nishinoya into his arms, but if he does that he will undoubtedly combust. It’s already so warm where their bodies press together. </p><p>“Me too,” he says instead, voice quiet and soft. There’s no one in the park nearby but these words are just for them, just for Nishinoya. “I’ve liked you for a...long time.” </p><p>Nishinoya lets out a shrill, close-mouthed scream, hands still over his face. Asahi laughs, privately pleased when Nishinoya’s ears turn red. </p><p>“Okay.” Nishinoya collects himself and finally turns to face Asahi, hands leaving his face to play with Asahi’s sleeve. “Tell me again. That you like me.”</p><p>“I — I like you.”</p><p>Small hands curl tighter into his sleeve. He doesn’t miss the way Nishinoya’s chin trembles. “So we can be boyfriends?”</p><p>“Would you like that?” </p><p>Nishinoya frowns, shakes his arm a little. “Would you? Don’t agree just because I pressured you or something!” </p><p>“I don’t feel pressured,” Asahi reassures him. Anxiety is there — it will always be there — but in this exact moment, in the evening calm with Nishinoya’s eyes like warm toffee, sweet and adoring? There’s only one thing responsible for the skipping beat of his heart. “I’m happy too.” </p><p>Nishinoya shakes him again. “So, do you want to? Date?” </p><p>“I think it would be the neatest thing ever to date you.” </p><p>Nishinoya bursts into a fit of the <em> cutest giggles. </em>It makes Asahi’s palms sweat. “The neatest thing, huh?” </p><p>“You can’t make fun of me,” Asahi says. “We’re dating now.”</p><p>“Bullshit! You like it when I tease you!” Nishinoya shouts. Asahi wants to remind him to speak more quietly — this park isn’t completely empty; someone might stare — </p><p>He’s completely distracted when Nishinoya climbs into his lap. </p><p>“Asahi,” he breathes, eyes bright and fearless, “we’re <em> dating! </em> We can actually make out!”</p><p>Oh, how Asahi could <em> drown </em> in the warmth that blooms when Nishinoya’s hands cradle his face. He becomes hyperaware of the shape of his <em> own </em> mouth as he stares at Nishinoya’s, wondering how they might fit together. How it might taste to press his tongue to the deep dip of his cupid’s bow. He wants to touch Nishinoya’s waist, steady him, pull him closer — but his heart is beating too fast and there’s no air left in his lungs. Too much, too soon. </p><p>Quickly, Asahi hooks his hands beneath Nishinoya’s arms and stands up, gets them both on their feet. Gets some distance. If he starts kissing Nishinoya on a public park bench, he’ll pass out. There are more romantic ways to continue this moment, he thinks. </p><p>He moves his hands to Nishinoya’s arms, rubs gently up and down the firm swell of his biceps. He can’t possibly kiss him right away, but he also can’t stop touching him. “I want to take you on a date first. <em> One </em> date, then kissing.” </p><p>Nishinoya pouts but his gaze is knowing and kind. “Walking you home all these times didn’t count?”  </p><p>“An official date,” Asahi amends, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Please? I — you deserve to be courted properly.” </p><p>Nishinoya looks — well, he looks the way Sugawara looks sometimes, when their feelings are so intense the only option is karate. Instead of a forceful blow to the rib cage, Nishinoya shoves his face into Asahi’s chest. “You’re so — good! Handsome! Cute! It’s not <em> fair.” </em></p><p>“Ah, sorry.” He’s not. </p><p>His hands hover over Nishinoya’s back. Before he can embrace him, Nishinoya’s phone rings. He backs up, digs it out of his bag and swipes to answer.</p><p>“Hey, Mama. I’m walking home with Asahi. No. <em> No, </em> he doesn’t wanna come to dinner — actually.” Nishinoya’s face splits on a huge grin, the kind that spells trouble. “I’m going to dinner with him! Tonight. Yup! I’ll be home later! Bye!” </p><p>He hangs up, then cackles. Asahi frowns. “Don’t make your mom angry, Noya-san.” </p><p>Nishinoya waves him off. “Nah, it’s fine. She already likes you.” Unbothered, he grabs his hand. Their fingers slip together with ease. Nishinoya starts towards the exit, pulling Asahi along in his wake. “Come on! You gotta decide where you’re taking me for our date!” </p><p>“Noya!” Asahi’s protest is half-hearted at best. “It will be more special if I have time to plan.” </p><p>The sun is almost set. It’s dark enough now for the streetlights to click on, cutting the golden glow with bright artificial light. Nishinoya looks radiant either way, openly joyful as he glances back at Asahi. “We could split a cup of ramen from the gas station and it would be special if I got to eat it with you.” </p><p>It electrifies him, this feeling, this love. Charges him right up. He could break his face smiling but instead he makes a show of frowning thoughtfully. “I can do a little better than a cup of ramen.” </p><p>“Two cups of ramen?” </p><p>“And drinks,” Asahi nods sagely. “And treats for the cats.” </p><p>Nishinoya’s eyes twinkle. He squeezes Asahi’s hand. “Sounds perfect to me.” </p><p>Nishinoya pulls him along, bouncing excitedly. Asahi follows with a fond grin. He should text his dad, say he’ll be home late, but that task feels secondary to the sensation of Nishinoya’s hand curled firmly around his own. </p><p>Maybe, Asahi thinks, home is not a place. Maybe he’s already arrived. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm not patient either. happy early love day, bette &lt;3</p><p>[ <a href="https://twitter.com/greenywrites">twitter</a> ]</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>